Far From It
by timelucked
Summary: The Fire Lord is hosting his 4th annual Heroes Dinner at his Palace. But when a man crashes his party, everyone's lives get thrown about. Chaos, conspiracy, and a bounty hunters apprentice. And you'll never guess who it is. "I, I, I thought you were dead"


Ghostly hands peeked out of dark crimson sleeves, voluminously floating around muscled arms as a man of twenty placed his palms along the edges of a lacquered table, spread out with finished plates and platters of fine foods. The room was intermittently lit by dull sconces, but otherwise was dimmed by the deep, rich colors prevalent in fire's grand design. The Fire Lord rose, rolling to his full height of six-feet and cleared his throat. His slitted eyes gazed around the Great Halls table at each gathered individuals face imposingly; catching the two blue eyes staring in mild excitement, as bright as the arrow-covered young man to his right, his face lighted and a smile grew upon it. The harsh furrows made way for compassionate streaks.

"My friends," he began, voice a surprisingly low rumble. The lack of his wheezy squeak and slight lisp was unfamiliar to the troupe, but more than welcome to the woman who sat directly beside him, back poised and seated eloquently to his left. He sounded more like the crumbling formation of a Toph-made earthquake. "It is a pleasure as always to see you all, the hero's of the Hundred Years War. But you all mean more to me than just companions, and brothers – or sisters – in elements. You have become a part of my family. I lost blood during the war, but I gained you all instead – and I couldn't have been happier." He graced each guest with a rare grin, head giving a slight nod as it passed each smile.

"To Zuko," A water warrior raised his goblet, the red liquor within sloshing like fire licking up the stained glass. "The best Fire Lord in a century!"

The man shook his head sagely. Then, turning to his left, he assessed with soft admiration the wide-eyed adolescent seated there. It seemed like just yesterday he had taught him fire bending in the court of his old summer home, preparing for the battle of their lives.

"No. To Aang - because without him, none of us would be seated in this dining hall today."

The master water bender rolled her crystal eyes, breathing exasperation out her nose. She saw rustling of regal cloth and looked up to see Mai, smothering her laughter behind a dabbing napkin. The look she gave to Katara said clearly, "I know what you feel." Every time Zuko hosted this get together, it always went like this. Without fail. He would get praise from Sokka, grinning beneath his _real_ Wang Fire beard. Zuko in turn would be humbled and modestly deter attention and praise to Aang, who would just sit and blush and blubber incoherently.

"Perhaps we all should simply take solace in the fact that we made it through such difficult trials and ordeals and are alive and well enough to partake in each others presence and lovely company." A graveled voice called like a wagon down unpaired roads from across the table.

Newly renounced General Iroh sat with two hands surrounding a cup of steaming tea, the pot kettled to his right at the far end. His face as warm and kind as the brew he cupped in his calloused palms. The Fire Lord opened his mouth to agree but frowned as an _esteemed_ guest thudded the bare heels of her blackened feet along the top of his prized table. Silverware danced with clattering plates as she shifted to a more comfortable position, the closest one to his uncle. She interlaced her fingers behind her head and arched back against the chair, stretching and releasing cricks along each vertebra. She sighed in contentment to Iroh's utter bemusement. Katara marveled at the young woman Toph was steadily becoming; beautiful, elegant, sturdy, and strong. She was still the same child that made men run as terrified children in earthen bender pits at the Rumble Six, but just tweaked with the nail of maturity and oncoming adulthood. Her chest heaved and the master water bender burst into erratic giggles as from two seats down from her, she caught sight of Aang gawking. He shook his head vigorously, blushing at his display as the portions of left over stewed vegetables on his plate latched his keen interest.

The earth bender opened her mouth to berate the Fire Lord alongside his Uncle, but another voice stole her thunder.

"You should listen to your gramps, Prince Pouty," a figure emerged from the shadows, curling off her like a well worn cloak. She appraised the ruler with a single eye, dusted with a dark haze above her eyelid. A sneer twisted blood-red lips sinisterly. "Or should I call you Fire Lord Frowny from now on?" She stepped deeper into the pooling light of a lamp.

Zuko growled. "Jun."

He had begun to despise the woman, though she had helped him twice through his young quest for honor. Ever since she had sauntered into his office one year ago, attempting to seduce him – pushing him back against his desk, kissing his neck – and Mai walked in on the scene.

"What are you doing here?" he spat. All except Mai stared up at him in shock at the biting display that was so unlike him.

"What? I thought my invitation got lost in the mail," she shrugged, strutting over to him, a predator's gleam in her one visibly smoky eye. As she passed the general, she ran a hand across the broad expanse of his shoulder, eliciting a grunt he hid into his teacup well. "After all, give a little credit where credit is due. I helped with the war effort."

Zuko scoffed haughtily, turning his face away in sheer disgust and contempt for the woman. All the faces of the guests dropped, slack-jawed as Jun strutted over and draped herself onto the Fire Lord's right shoulder. He bristled instantly – whether from anger, embarrassment, or another feeling entirely was unknown. Feeling the change in his body, she cooed into his ear flirtatiously, "Aw, what's the matter, Zuzu – I just came by to give you _another_ present."

Katara's brow arched elegantly at that comment. The party then turned to see a calm Mai cough into her hand. In the next split second she jabbed her arm out and the glint of something metallic propelled from her capacious sleeve. Jun ducked her head, narrowly avoiding the streaking steel as it flew past with a whistle.

"Whoa!" she dully exclaimed, setting her head in the dip of Zuko's horned armor. "Almost got me there, Gloomy."

He growled behind his sealed lips, fighting between composure in his court or protecting his own by knocking this temptress off of him.

Mai replaced her hands within her sleeves. "Pity."

The Fire Lord's smirk of approval and pride towards his wife was snickered at by Sokka. Zuko frowned and gave a sharply pointed glare at his friend.

"Look, I'm just here to drop off my apprentice. Wouldn't stop yammering about you."

She stalked off, hips swaying tantalizingly and knowingly, but not before kissing the Fire Lord's cheek, flaming to a brilliant crimson. She ducked behind the corner and out the door as Mai flung another kunai, face as hard as her steel. Two dark fingers snapped the knife-like weapon up in midair. Shock jolted to the surface of each face, jostling them in their seats.

"Thanks," Jun tossed back her flippant appreciation and continued on down the corridor.

A man stood, propped against the doorway, the sole of one of his feet flat against the mauve frame. He twirled the dagger between each knuckle with the fluidity of a wave. His shaggy head sagged to stare at his toes, admiring the armored plating over them. At his sides were tiger blades and strapped all around his person were sashes as red as blood and more tools of his apparent trade; sai's, daggers, sabers, blunts, and other assorted materials. Tilting his head a fraction of an inch up, he smirked at the stony and bewildered faces gaping at him. A sharp brow quirked up, smirk turning into a seductively lopsided grin. Jerking his hand, the captured weapon sung in the air in a streak of white and thunked into the wood post right past Zuko's scarred face.

Slamming hands into the table, Katara nearly yanked the fine cloth from its place. She stumbled on unsure footing out of her seat and into the aisle, eyes the size of the saucers that still sat before the silent group. She clutched the robes above her left rib in a fist, stammering the name of the man impossibly before her.

"J-J-J…_Jet_?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: NOBODY MOVE! I'm holding the next chapter hostage – and if any of you ever want to see it [again] I demand five reviews.**


End file.
